Spark of life
by theoneiam
Summary: In the aftermath, Sam has a request for Ruby. Spoilers for all books, heavily based on the event of the novella "Sparks Rise". An ending for Sam and Lucas.


**A one-shot set after the books. Enjoy!**

* * *

I hadn't seen Sam since the whole mess of a breakout and hospital trip, but turns out I didn't need to search for her. She found me.

I was in the lobby, returning from our improptu get-away trip, Zu laughing and riding piggyback on Vida, Chubs following them with an almost exasperated smile, Liam bringing up the back with windswept hair and warmth in his eyes.

Sam hit me like a brick in the side, and unprepared as I was with my leg in a cast, I almost toppled over, catching myself on the nearest person. Luckily, Vida was sturdy even with the added weight of Zu, and didn't budge an inch.

"Ruby!" Sam exclaimed, a glint of life in her eyes I hadn't seen much of in a while, but it faded almost instantly again.

Then Vanessa and Ava and some other girls from the cabin reached us, and it became such a pandemonium that there was no distinguishing what everyone was saying.

Liam, understanding the situation and perhaps who these girls were, quickly guided us into a calmer side room, and I was thankful for the space as I hugged them all one by one.

Their bright, happy eyes met mine, and Vanessa started the inevitable conversation in a teasing tone.

"So, she sneaked in and let all the white knights through the gate? That was the best clue you could manage?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I wasn't sure if the cameras recorded audio," I told her, but the others laughed happily, assuring me it was okay and that they had at least been somewhat prepared. They were out now, and that was the most important thing.

I scanned their faces as I answered their questions about everything from the breakout to what was happening now.

"Where's Rachel?" I suddenly asked, realizing her face was missing, "And Macey?"

"Their parents came to pick them up," Ellie said.

The silence that fell indicated that many of them wouldn't be so lucky. Sam's and Ellie's faces grew tense, along with a few others'. Ava, however looked relaxed, and I gathered her family was still on the way.

"I'm sure we'll find something for you all as well," I said, and we exchanged contact information, last names, and numbers for the new phones that volunteers had handed out. If felt weird, that this group that had been together for seven years, me involved in six of them, was coming apart. That we were no longer forced to be together, but now we wanted to stay in contact.

Slowly, they trickled out to go eat, and Sam was the only one left, along with Liam and Chubs who had been camping out in a corner of the room.

She glanced over to them quickly, her gaze darting back to me nervously.

"Could we... Could we speak alone?" She asked slowly, a heaviness in her voice that was so unlike her I almost wanted to throw up. Panic settled over me like a blanket. Something had happened. Something that could make Sam sound that hopeless even when she was finally free. What had I missed?

"Of course," Liam answered in my stead, seeing that I was trying to keep myself together, already shooing Chubs towards the exit. "We'll close the door on the way out."

So they did, and I immediately dragged Sam to a few chairs and planted us face to face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, horror scenarios running through my brain. Things that could have happened during the escape, the PSF guard's leering smile, the potentially now dead kids she could have known.

"Do you remember the Red? The one..." She trailed off, looking miserable.

"The one with brown eyes and dark hair?" I asked, mentally adding: _the one she kept looking at and flinching from._

"Yes," she said, gulping. "Lucas. His name was Lucas."

"Is he dead?" I asked carefully, not quite understanding, and she shook her head harshly.

"No! He's alive, he got restrained with the others. They're under control now, Harry says. That's not the problem." She bit her lip. Then she cracked, a tear running down one cheek, and the whole ugly story flowed from her: their childhood together, seeing him in his Red uniform, afraid he wouldn't recognize her, the incident in the factory, how he stayed with her by the cages. Their conversation, the gentle boy underneath, her fear he would do something stupid to protect her, the eventual snake bite and his desperate try to escape to save her.

The empty look on his face when they eventually brought him back, how he looked but didn't see.

M27.

By then she was sobbing and I hugged her, and the pull of her memories was so strong I could barely withstand it. Hurt and hopelessness and grief were pouring out of her. He was her center, I realized, the way Liam was mine, and now she was lost.

I could imagine exactly how she felt - after all, I had been in her shoes when I took Liam's memories of me. This was involuntary though, and there was nothing left of her Lucas. Nothing left of those she thought of as family, except the faint hope of finding Mia again.

Once she calmed, she asked in a small voice, "I know you don't like using your powers, but could you... Could you take a look? I just want to know if he's in pain. If he..."

And I had promised myself that my parents and Clancy were the last ones, but I didn't even hesitate.

"Yes," I said. "I can't promise anything, but I can try to look."

"Thank you," she said, and then we both sat in silence, hugging, drained. There was no hope in her eyes, but she seemed more peaceful.

* * *

I went about it smarter this time than many times before. I slept, I ate, I gathered information from Harry.

Yes, all of the restrained Reds were calm and responded well to commands, he confirmed. It seemed that their brains, after the initial confusion of the fight, had started taking commands from us flawlessly, like they had been programmed to. It didn't matter much who their leader was, they were trained to do the leader's bidding.

And so, when I stepped into the room, Sam behind me, M27, formerly Lucas Orfeo, was sitting still on a chair.

He observed our entry, and I thought his look went slightly pinched when he saw Sam. However, he made no comments and simply waited, as I sat down beside him and reached into his head carefully.

What an empty place it was. A place of darkness and waiting and obedience. Of embers chained under layers of control, only to be released by certain commands.

There was not much in the way of thoughts or memories. Yes, the basic memories of everyday things and procedures, but they had a dull edge to them. He was conscious of his own number - M27 - and many commands and instructions. No feelings, no stray thoughts.

Frustrated, I explored the edges, searching for any clues, any disruptions like in Mason, whose mind had been completely shattered.

And there! Shoved in a dark corner was the observation of a headache every time he saw prisoner 3284. It was mostly clinical, a status update about his health, but I saw a quick flash of Sam's face tinged with an edge of confusion.

They hadn't eradicated her completely.

Slowly, I tugged on the thought, delved deeper, and found a sore point in his mind. Almost as if something was trying to claw it's way in, causing the headache.

And I decided, without real thought, that yes, this was a lead. And so I gently, but persistently, parted the darkness that was his mind, and everything flooded in.

Memories, sounds, feelings, smells. A whole teenager's lifetime of images and situations. They streamed in like light to fill the emptiness, a strange glow flowing way too quickly, and I was afraid they would damage something, distantly aware that Lucas was screaming.

Lucas.

Not M27.

I broke the connection, and came out to chaos, as Sam was worriedly trying to figure out what was wrong, people streaming into the room because of the noise.

"Put him under!" I ordered the nurse I had on standby. "Put him under now!"

She did as she was told, plunging the syringe into him, and it shut him down within seconds.

It was too much for him, that flood. I should have somehow plucked them out one by one, like I had done for others. What was different?

I touched his hand and dove in again, ignoring Sam's hysteric crying. I would not allow this, my carelessness, to damage him.

He was out, but it didn't stop me nowadays, I still got clear access. Instead I sifted through the memories, tried to calm them and help him sort them. They were slowly finding places, and I realized, as I watched the Trainers torture him, that he had done this to himself, just as they wanted him to. They couldn't wipe him, but he could wipe himself.

With enough pain, enough motivation, they had made him so desperate for respite that he had voluntarily rejected his memories. He had tried to banish them out of his mind, built a wall around the part of his mind he wanted to keep. Once done, he no longer remembered why he should want them, or that they even existed, and so was unable to unravel the walls in his mind, believing it to be everything there was.

 _Obey._

I did not know what to do. It was hard enough to see them, and I understood why he screamed. Dealing with them would be overwhelming and painful.

I pulled back, and drew Sam into an embrace.

"He's still there," I told her. "What they did to him... It made him reject all his memories. They didn't eradicate them - he shut them out himself."

"But he's hurting!" Sam cried, evidently confused. "Why was he screaming?"

"It was too much at once," I said, looking at the nurse. "Perhaps we could decide a time to let him wake, and I could be in his mind, leading him through it."

 _So he doesn't go insane, or become traumatized again by the memories_ , I tried to convey to her over Sam's head.

She nodded, her medically inclined mind catching the same fears as mine did, and arranged for him to be moved to a bed.

I shushed Sam, stroking her back, "He's not gone, Sam. I'll try to help him accept the memories. It'll be okay. He'll fight to get back, won't he?"

She looked up through a watery smile, and asked,

"Were they really there? The memories?"

"Yes," I said, and after a moment's analysis on the flood of what seemed so white, I added, "and the feelings too. I was just a bit much for him."

She seemed to regain some composure, and insisted she be allowed to sit with him.

That was where I found her hours later, as the drug was supposed to be wearing off. She was singing to him softly,

"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine..." The moment she saw me, she trailed off and rose. "Should I go?"

Her voice was a bit hoarse, but behind it was a strong desire to do whatever her friend needed in that moment.

"No," I said. "Just stay by the door, maybe? I'm sure he'll like a familiar face when he comes around."

She nodded, and I prepared myself and reached out to him.

He was still out of it, no real activity, so I waited, carefully nudging along his memories as they realigned, watching the white light spread through them, almost as if it was absorbed, until the memories glowed at the edges the way I was used to seeing.

The feelings were attaching themselves to respective memories, and as one finished - another scene of torture - I pulled it up and reached out to touch the feelings with my mind. I felt them burn through me: agony, fear, helplessness...

And in my own mind, I mirrored them carefully, dulling the edges of pain a little bit. Not enough to make it disappear, no way, but enough to make it less prominent.

I tested this on a few more, particularily the worst ones, and then I felt a trickle of awareness.

 _Lucas?_ I asked, trying to articulate carefully.

He was drowsy, but I let him emerge, when I usually froze or numbed most people when I was in them.

 _Who are you?_ He thought, still too out of it to feel anything, and I answered.

 _I am Ruby, and I'm here to help you. There are some painful memories you have to go through, and I don't want you to be alone._

In his addled state, he accepted this without question, but I could feel him cringing as the first memories took hold, the feelings making themselves know.

The next hour or so was agony for both of us. He tried to deal with what he had desperately wanted to forget, and I tried to mirror my mind just enough for him to get through it, without actually changing anything too much.

He had to be able to deal with this himself again later, and no matter how much I just wanted to wipe away the pain I couldn't.

But I could help him, guide him.

Somewhere through the process I realized this was what I wanted to do, with my life and my abilities. I would start with the Reds, but there would be others with trauma, with aphasia like Lillian Gray. Others only an Orange could help.

There was no point of being afraid of my powers, as long as I had control. They no longer felt foreign or scary, more like an extension of me. Why shouldn't I use my abilities for good?

Then a new memory tugged at Lucas, wanting to settle in, and I followed him in.

When Lucas finally got to the ones of him and Sam, in camp, in the factory, by the cages, he cried. It was both happiness and pain, a mixture of helplessness and joy for him to see her face.

Then they turned to darker things, the infirmary, the escape attempt, the feeling of utter failure and horror as he realized she was going to either die or go back to the camp to be punished. That he would likely never see her again, that he could not protect her, no matter his powers.

Then.

Then the torture, the hours and the days and the pain. The unrelenting pressure of agony, until he gradually gave in and started the process. The hatred he felt for himself now as he watched how Lucas locked away his identity and became M27.

When he saw M27's memories of seeing Sam in the camp, the grief and despair on her face as he swept his gaze over all the girls, he wanted to turn away.

 _No_ , I said gently. _You must look, Sam deserves that, so you can see what it was like for her. You must understand one another when you see her again._

He looked. And with my words, a hope of seeing Sam again flooded him - a powerful joyous relief that she was alive. I decided it was time.

 _Would you like to see her?_ I asked, and without needing the answer, I pulled out of his still jumbled, aching head, that was at least not on the brink of insanity now.

I watched as his eyes opened slowly, almond-shaped and brown, focusing on the shape in the doorway in front of his bed.

"Sammy," he said, and it was a oh-so-broken, but beautiful word.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please review if you have any comments. I finished the series and the novellas and felt I had to do something about Sam and Lucas. Their story somehow touched me most.**


End file.
